


Fireworks

by PintedPatrich



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-World War II, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 12:32:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17528795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PintedPatrich/pseuds/PintedPatrich
Summary: A New Year is coming.Celebrating brings back memories.





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> Short fic I made as a warm up while I work on two of my bigger works ^^  
> It's inspired by To Paint the Sky on fanfiction.net, that story is incredible btw if you have the time and enough tissues I suggest that you read it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

There was something about fireworks that made them terrifyingly beautiful.

You've woken up to them sometimes, you've heard them on those sleep hazy midnights where the splitting pain in your head seemed to be louder than the noise of celebration outside. If you're lucky enough you go back to sleep, where blurry dreams of battlefields and stained blood are the only things that await you — desperately clawing their way into your mind. 

Usually, however, you stay awake — and instead of dreams you think back on vividly painful memories. 

There was something about fireworks. 

You've seen plenty in your lifetime, you've seen their magnificence. But what magnificence you see is different from what the people around you see.

People see golden showers, heavenly rivers coming out from the sky — dissipating before greedy hands could take a hold of it. 

You see mortars lining up, preparing to fire at the drop of a hat. 

People see sparks of light flying off into different directions. Fading as fast as it came with an explosion of colors, twinkling, glittering like stars — like the blinding lights in a showroom... They disappear the same way, without a second to lose. 

You only see the blinding light of a flashbang. You wonder if those sparks feel the same as the scorching heat of frag grenades. You wonder if they scrape against your raw skin like the fragmentation too. 

And you hear worse. Much much worse. 

There were the explosions for one, all it does is reduce you into a half-conscious state of a soul stuck between two different times. A battlefield builds itself on the distant city across the lake, two realities collide — you do not know if the people around you are screaming in agony or in awe. 

You don't know if they are real. It terrifies you.

Your memories are take you back to the past. Phantom pain passes underneath your skin like the cold breeze. You thought that you could feel it, like you could feel the unknown pressure coil itself around your arms, shifting in place until there's more warmth on the side of your shoulder.

No, not unknown, it was familiar, warm, and gentle.

You snapped out of your stupor. 

"Are you okay, Ludwig?"

Worried eyes look back at you. You blame yourself for that, he shouldn't worry — he needs to be enjoying this, it's what he deserves. 

Maybe you shouldn't have come.

His hands coil around you more, maybe he noticed that your eyes were getting misty — or maybe he's being his usual affectionate self. You couldn't tell. 

"I'm fine." You nod, and that was the truth, because you are fine, you are happy, and you're grateful. But maybe it's the fact that you can never be as happy as before that makes you somber at times, a man can only handle so much tragedies in a lifetime. 

When you came back to him you were a totally different person. 

And you love him because he's accepted you and all of your war torn broken heart. 

You press him close because that's most likely the only way you can say it to him. 

And when he presses back you get a feeling that he understands too. 

Another round of fireworks round up into the sky, he tugs on your shirt so that you could see them together. 

You don't glance up, you turn to him and watch his ever sunny smile illuminated by the dancing colors in the sky. Perhaps, you think, that this is the only way that you can enjoy fireworks. The bright colors contrast on his tanned skin, shadows and hues dance together on his eyes. Everything about him seemed to shine. 

And those eyes turn back to you, and instead of the worry and fear from before there was unhindered, pure, and absolute joy. You feel the sides of your lips perk up. 

You do love him. Fully, unconditionally, to the ends of the earth.

He tugs on your shirt again, this time excitedly — chattering and pointing to the sky. You comply, you use his joy as courage, and you glance up.

You do not see the mortars, or the grenades, you do not think of the pain the spectacle may inflict unto you. You do not hear screams, not anymore, but you could hear **him** laughing beside you. 

And you laugh too — loud and wholeheartedly — because against all odds and against all feelings of hopelessness within you, instead of war you see something else. 

You see colors, and realize that this isn't the dull grey, yellow and red of an explosion — there weren't any puffs of smoke floating up into sky. There were vibrant greens, purple and blue; a deity has lovingly sprinkled the sky with colorful stars like a piece of art and you **saw.**

In fact they were not much like explosions at all, you were reminded of the flowers in bloom near your old rickety garden during springtime. Beautiful buds that spiral into completion and left to decorate the barren sky, on every one that passed by you can see familiar blooms: daisies, sunflowers, and then one particular spark of blue reminded you of heliotropes.

You smile and look at the person hugged close beside you because you could never forget about that day. 

You smile more because you think that, maybe, fireworks weren't all that bad. 

It was strange for you that celebration sounded much like war, maybe the noise and sight did give you unpleasant memories but memories can easily be manipulated. It may be hard, and it may linger on forever, but you can try. 

The countdown to a New Year began, heavy excitement and shouts echo themselves around you.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

You find yourself being pulled in a kiss by your shorter partner. It was sweet, gentle and short but it left the both of you breathless by each other's love either way. You look at the man who still anchored you into this world to this day, even after the loss of your brother and even after you left for so long and grew so bitter he was still waiting for you, patiently, lovingly, and for eternity. 

Maybe it's finally time to make newer, happier memories this year.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Trivia? Some of the thoughts Germany had about fireworks at the end of the story were some of mine too. My family and I attended a festival for the weekend and I was feeling melancholic. 
> 
> Of course that led to me wanting to write fanfiction. Funny how that works out.


End file.
